


handsome.

by kreestar



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Crack, Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers-centric, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, he can not help it, no one can, tony is just so gorgeous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 04:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19202158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kreestar/pseuds/kreestar
Summary: it was at the ripe age of 22, steve realizes perhaps he has a type.





	handsome.

**Author's Note:**

> this is such a fluffly little drabble it makes me SICK.
> 
> originally posted to my [tumblr!](https://sagistark.tumblr.com/post/185564530552/handsome-fluff-fluff-more-fluff-getting) which - btw - i'm officially taking writing requests if anyone is interested ! drop me a message if so :)

_1920_

 

Steve never complained when his mom dragged him to the corner store to pick up groceries. He never opposed escaping the potent stench of alcohol that seeped into the carpets and wallpaper; like an airborne bacteria his father spread purposefully to make their lives that much worse.

While his ma walked up and down the aisle - and Steve would realize later in life, she did so to extend their time in the little store since she too had an affinity for escaping - Steve looked at the papers, comics, and magazines in aisle five.

One magazine cover had a painted picture of two people standing side by side, laughing with one another amicably. Steve leaned up on the tips of his toes and outstretched his stubby little hand as high as he could reach. He grabbed the corner of the magazine and, satisfied, looked at the cover more closely.

The man was wearing a three-piece suit - surely, the fanciest thing Steve had ever seen - with dark hair parted neatly to the side. His mustache was clipped short and gelled, and the same dark shade as his hair. His eyes were bright and so _blue_. He looked classy, happy, and-

“P’etty.” He said aloud, running his hand over the man’s smiling face.

“Oh, there you are Steve.” His ma says from behind him. He turns and looks up at her. His ma is pretty, too. Steve smiles at her, and she smiles back saying, “Put that back, sweetie, we can’t afford it.”

Steve nods, “O-tay, mommy,” but just before he puts back his magazine he points to the cover and says to his mom; “P’etty, right mommy?”

She squints her eyes a bit and looks at the cover. She nods, “Oh sure, Stevie, she’s real pretty. Now come on, it’s getting late.”

“No, mommy,” Steve says, “ _Him_. He p’etty, right mommy?”

His ma looks a bit confused for a moment. She opens and closes her mouth a handful of times, and her face runs through a whole array of emotions. Confused, and always sensitive to criticism from his mom, Steve worries he’s done something wrong. Steve’s little face drops, and he feels prickling tears start budding in the corners of his eyes. He says, devastated, “I say somethin’ bad mommy?”

That seemed to snap his ma right out of her daze. She gasps and shakes her head vigorously, “No, honey, not at all! I was just-uh…” His ma shakes his head again, but when she looks at him again the smile is back on her face. With a warm smile she says, “I was just a bit confused. He is uh… _Pretty_ . But usually if you’re talking about a man being _pretty_ , you say _handsome_.”

“Hamsome?” Steve says. His ma bites back a chuckle, and nods.

“Yup. Now come on, it’s getting late.”

 

_1927_

“Arnie you _know_ I feel bad-” Steve is halfway through saying until Arnie shuts him up with a gentle shove,

“Can it, Stevie, my parents _accidentally_ gave me this extra nickel so we’re _goin’_ to see that new picture, y’dig?”

Steve acquiesces and doesn’t acknowledge the fact the Roth family seems especially good at _accidentally_ giving Arnie just the right amount of money to treat _both_ boys. That was just the Roth family, really. When Steve’s dad died (good riddance, Steve thinks darkly) things got hard financially for him and his ma. Steve would never even _imagine_ going out to see a picture if Arnie hadn’t befriended him in kindergarten and just sort of taken him under his wing from then on.

The theater was down Queens Boulevard, so they took the long trek to appreciate the balmy summer day. Buses careened by them, kids screamed happily while running through the spray of opened fire hydrants, the subway screeched overhead on the elevated platforms; Steve couldn’t imagine a scene more… _Queens_. He would sketch this whole thing later, no doubt, along with all the other nostalgic drawings he has of his block, his friends, and his ma.

They made it to the theater drenched in layers upon layers of sweat, but grinning despite themselves because any afternoon spent with each other was a fun one. Hell, Steve didn’t even know the _name_ of the picture they were seeing, but Arnie kept saying ‘the critics love it’ so Steve just went along and pretended to understand what that meant.

The picture started up and sure, it was pretty good. Steve was half-invested until _he_ entered the scene. The female lead was lounging on her long couch when in through the front door comes a tall, thin man wearing a tailored three-piece suit. He takes off his fedora, hangs it on the rack beside the front door, and then slips off his overcoat. He puffs on his cigar; and raises a dark eyebrow with a smug carefree grin. His hair must’ve been jet-black, gelled and styled just as neatly as his mustache.  

Steve couldn’t even hear the dialogue, his ears were so overwhelmed by the sound of his beating heart. _Handsome_ , was all he could think. Probably one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen.

To Steve’s disappointment, that man didn’t appear many more times in the picture. When him and Arnie left, Arnie just couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful the story was, and how much he _loved_ the main protagonist. Steve couldn’t do much but nod along and hope Arnie couldn’t see through his charade and lackluster understanding of what the entire picture was about. _No_ he hadn’t been paying attention, _yes_ he’d just been waiting to see that one dashing actor come back the whole time.

Later that night, Steve did sketch the busy street. Just for fun he also drew that actor standing across the street - puffing on a cigarette, and looking dreamily up at the sky.

 

_1939_

Steve Rogers is always punctual. He’s proud of abilities as an arts student, and he refuses to let anyone think he isn’t serious about his ambitions by being late to class.

Which was why he is so terribly embarrassed to be racing down Astor place with his unwieldy canvas slapping against his legs with every long stride he takes. He can just _hear_ his ma’s voice in his head admonishing him for missing his train. He can just _hear_ Arnie cackling gleefully from the sidelines as the ‘prim and perfect Stevie finally _messes up_ for once!’

It wasn’t _Steve’s_ fault he missed his train. (Except it was).

He’d been fishing his subway tokens out of his pockets, not paying attention to where he was walking, when he walked unceremoniously into someones back. Steve - all long, gawky, untrained limbs - nearly took the poor man down with him as he stumbled into the staircase behind him.

The man, in a crisp suit that was unbecoming of the dingy station they were in, turned around quickly and gasped, “Gee fella, you alright?”

Sure, Steve had asthma (and about 15 other ailments to boot) but his inability to catch his breath had nothing to do with any of those, but rather to do with the sudden rush of blood to more… Unseemly places. Tall. Dark, slicked hair. Trimmed facial hair. Blue-as-the-sky eyes.

“Hell- _ooo_ ,” The man says while waving a hand across Steve’s face as if to wake him up.

“Right, uhm… Hi.” Steve hardly manages to say, and even when he does he feels like a damn idiot. The man’s eyebrows are now raised to his hairline and he looks _concerned_.

“Did you hit your head?” He asks. Steve can feel his pale skin blushing furiously and _goddamnit_ , this is why Arnie doesn’t hang out with him anymore, Steve has _no goddamn chill_ -

“Look, fella, why don’t I get you a doctor or something,” And then this guy placed a warm hand on Steve’s bicep, as if to steer him away. And then well.

Steve had an asthma attack.

Thankfully his professor is kind about it - especially with Steve still huffing and puffing from _that_ episode and the whole running-through-Astor-Place thing. So it was at the ripe age of twenty-two he realized perhaps he has a type.

 

_1941_

“Y’know you’re only 25, you got no right treating me like I’m a _kid_ .” Bucky says when Steve takes a _third_ stolen beer bottle from his hands, “Plus we’re in England ain’t it legal for people my age to have a few?”

“Bucky for Christ’s sake you’re sixteen, and a lightweight no less.” Steve whispers back with a long-suffering eye roll. Bucky huffs a little fit but eventually crosses his arms and stands resolutely beside Steve. They’ve only been a team for a few months now, but Steve is more than thrilled to have Bucky around. Sure he was skeptical at first when President Roosevelt told him they wanted the great ‘Captain America’ to have a sidekick to ‘inspire the youth’. He was even _more_ skeptical when he found out said ‘youth’ would actually be a fourteen year old army brat from Illinois.

But things with the two of them slipped into an easy friendship. Steve respected Bucky like he was an adult, but still had a fond overreaching protectiveness over the difficult brat as if the kid was his own. Some of the other boys in the Commandos have joked Steve was a 50 year-old stuck in a young man’s body, and he supposes its that same nurturing maturity that leads him to see Bucky as more than just a kid brother. From forcing him to brush his teeth even though _‘this aint toothpaste Cap, it’s basically fuckin’ poison’_ to these long moral lectures about _‘drinking only when its legal’_ Steve has come to love Bucky with something fierce.

Long-story-short, Bucky Barnes is a menace that Steve absolutely adores.

Even at things like this - these ritzy Army parties Captain’s are forced to attend. The commandos were back at some pub while him and Bucky stood in their best dress uniforms and smiled stiffly at different important dignitaries. It felt odd being in a place like this when there was a war going on, but Steve was bright enough to know there were _politics_ involved in everything; especially a war.

“Captain Rogers,” A familiar voice greets form his right-hand side. Steve smiled at Peggy who gave a curt nod to them both - clearly uncomfortable herself at events like this. “I want you to meet some friends of mine.”

She extended a hand and a smartly dressed man walked forward. He had dark, stony eyes and a thick accent when he said, “A pleasure, sir. I am King T’Chacka of the African nation, Wakanda. I just wanted to extend an introduction.”

Just as Steve was about to extend his own pleasantries, another man joined them. Steve felt his heart quicken its pace, his palms getting exceedingly too moist, his eyes perhaps going noticeably wider.

“And I’m Gene Braddock,” The man said with an accent like Peggy’s. Tall, slender, bright blue eyes, a carefully trimmed mustache, and dark styled hair. “British Central Intelligence, how do you do sir.”

It was only because he had Erskine’s serum pumping through his veins that Steve didn’t have another damn asthma attack. Peggy kept giving him strange looks and Bucky was hardly stifling his snickers. Though despite his suddenly ruffled appearance, and a winded introduction, the three men kept up an easy conversation. The king didn’t speak much, but what he did say carried weight. Gene Braddock, on the other hand, was witty and hardly said anything of real import.

Eventually they drifted off to other party-goers, and Bucky the _jerk_ wouldn’t stop nudging Steve and sarcastically asking Steve if he was ‘feeling okay.’ Steve didn’t know what Bucky _knew_ . Sure being queer wasn’t accepted - hell, it wasn’t even legal - but they were in the Army and well… To say the least it wasn’t unheard of. Steve didn’t want to delve into his whole romantic past, but he can tell for certain his affinity for men wasn’t merely a phase of convenience. He wouldn’t explain this to Bucky (he fought the urge to think _I’ll tell him when he’s older_ ) but when the party starts dying down and the two make their way towards the exit, Gene kind of forces Steve’s hand.

“Pardon me, Captain?” The man says at his side. He leans in closer to Steve, and whispers something in his ear.

His mouth suddenly very dry, and beads of sweat sitting at his hairline he nods once, curtly, and looks at Bucky to say,

“You head out, I’ll meet up-”

The _brat_ absolutely cackles. He slaps Steve’s bicep, waggling his dark eyebrows and says; “Oh I’m sure I’ll see you later, Stevie-”

“Bucky can you keep your voice down-”

“ _Enjoy_ yourself, Cap!” He practically shouts. Gene is even snickering beside him and just goddamnit. Steve _knows_ this is the best case scenario - his sidekick not being a bigoted prick and all - but goddammit he’s a _prick_.

 

_1943_

Gene and Steve kept up a casual acquaintanceship from then on. Gene was constantly busy, a bit of a playboy, and dedicated to the war-front, so Steve was happy to meet up with him anytime they both happened to be on the same base at the same time.

It must’ve been some divine intervention, because from 1941 on, Steve kept seeing men who looked like… Well, he supposes his ‘type’. Maybe it was a trend he didn’t realize was catching on, or perhaps European men all looked the same. Steve sure as hell wasn’t complaining, and to his own advantage he’s gotten better at not being so starstruck anytime he sees a handsome man with blue eyes and dark hair.

(Bucky has teased him mercilessly about it because he’s the worst.)

So all things considered, when Steve first met Howard Stark he wasn’t particularly starstruck. The man’s ability to create and invent certainly intrigued Steve, but the man was far too intense for Steve to truly understand. Their relationship was professional, occasionally laughable, but strictly concerned with the war-effort. Peggy had only good things to say about Howard, which meant Steve _also_ had only nice things to say about Howard (Peggy was a tough one to please, so considering she was able to warm up to him had to mean something.)

But Steve didn’t really have the time to concern himself with men nowadays. The war was getting more intense on all fronts, and him Bucky and his new team of Invaders were feeling the pressure. Howard Stark made him a new, much sturdier shield. Bucky got quieter. Namor, and the Human Torch continued bickering like their lives depended on it. Arnie sent Steve a few letters, and while they meant the world to both of them to keep in touch, those correspondences starting dwindling with time.

And then, within just a year, everything would go to complete and utter hell.

 

_Much, Much Later_

He’s cold in a way he didn’t think was even possible. His chest hurts, his face hurts, _everything_ hurts. When he was a kid he got pretty bad pneumonia once, and even _then_ his lungs didn’t hurt like they hurt now.

 _“He’s alive…”_ A soft voice said from his right side. He feels like he’s underwater - making out the vague outlines of voices that drift off, lost, in the murky depths. It’s a male voice; quiet yet excited. Steve takes a long, shuttering breathe, and slowly - almost tentatively - opens his eyes.

Everything is foggy. Around him is just a swirl of indefinite shapes and colors, all clouded in a misty haze. He blinks some more, trying to put some definition to what’s around him.

“Hey… Just take deep breath…” The same voice from before says. Steve turns his head a bit to the sound. Sees light, then eventually a face. “There you go… Slow and steady, Cap. You had one  hell of a beauty rest.”

After blinking a few more times Steve sees the owner of the voice. And just in case he wasn’t sure if the fall killed him, he knows for sure now-

“Are you an angel?”

The man’s blue eyes go wide, and his cheeks instantly blush red. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as if at a loss for words. Standing around Steve were more people, and one of them started chuckling deeply;

“Boy, you guys ever see Tony at a _loss_ for words?”

“Aye, the son of Stark is certainly not one to speak so little! Though Captain, if I may correct you,” A booming voice says from Steve’s left, “while Tony is certainly very lovely, he is no angel. But _I_ am a God, so I suppose you are not far off-”

“Thor, don’t overwhelm him with the God-talk _right_ off the bat.” Another voice says.

“Oh poor Steve,” a woman’s voice says with a giggle, “you’re never gonna be able to live down _those_ first-words.”

 

_Not Much Longer_

Tony Stark is generous to a fault. Brilliant beyond words. Surprisingly introspective, and unwaveringly compassionate. Loyal. Recklessly brave. And deeply, shockingly, humble.

So when Steve thinks, _I’m in love_ , after seeing Tony in a tuxedo for the first time, he knows he doesn’t mean that _just_ in the shallow sense. It’s just that _yes_ , Tony has all these wonderful qualities that make him special, and he _also_ looks like an A-list movie star on his _worst_ days.

Steve has seen Tony in a tuxedo a few times now - all times being marvels in themselves - but never fails to get those same butterflies in his chest. It’s been years since they met, but Steve will never not revel in the fact Tony is _his_. Tony Stark is the one taking his hand under the table, or holding the crook of his elbow while they walk down the street. Steve fell asleep for 70 odd years, and woke up to snag the best looking fella who ever walked the Earth-

“Steve,” Tony coughs. Steve’s head jerks in surprise, and he looks up from the sketch he’d been perfecting. Another portrait of Tony. Really, if they weren’t married, Steve thinks Tony would have a legitimate right to be concerned over how much Steve catches himself sketching his portrait. “Were you just _that_ lost in my wondrous beauty?”

“Yes.” Steve says without hesitation, causing Tony to laugh. He’s in his workshop, covered in splotches of grease, his curly hair a disarray of unruly tangles and - yeah, Steve is pretty sure Tony managed to get a screw stuck behind his ear _somehow_ \- and his jaw is sporting a 5 o’clock shadow. Simply, stunning.

“You have weird taste, Rogers.” Tony says, half to himself before going back to whatever blueprint he’d been working his way through prior. Steve looks on with what he knows is a smile Natasha would mockingly call ‘moony’. He can’t help it.

Tony is just so handsome.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr!](https://sagistark.tumblr.com)


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